Hidden Vices Read Online Free PDF Page B

answering.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œMcGinn, I’m surprised you answered,” Nappa said.
    â€œYeah, so am I.” Megan threw back another sip of wine, truly not wanting to have this conversation. But her Irish guilt over dodging his calls had reached critical mass.
    â€œHow is lake living treating you?”
    â€œNappa, I must get over eight hundred channels on this television.”
    â€œWhat are you watching on your eight-hundred-channel television?”
    â€œSome fitness show.” Megan started to channel surf again, finding a boxing match. She thought it was fitting, for she was sure the conversation was about to take a turn. “Why haven’t I ever made time for this before?” She began to gnaw on a rib.
    â€œMaybe because you were working?” Nappa offered. “Remember work?”
    â€œYeah, it’s that thing that eventually killed my father and is responsible for a sick fuck attempting to murder my mother. You mean that work, right? Did you call me for a reason? And by the way, I just got out here; why are you pressuring me?”
    â€œThat wasn’t my intention, I’m just checking in on my partner during her time off.”
    â€œI’m not your partner anymore.”
    â€œRight now, sure. But you’ll bounce back, and if you keep eating whatever it is you’re devouring on the other end of this phone call, you’ll probably be able to bounce to a few other places.”
    Megan threw the sucked-to-the-bone rib on the paper plate. “Funny. Very funny, Nappa.”
    A moment of an uncomfortable silence led to Nappa clearing his throat before saying, “Doing a lot of background on the Worth case, still looking at cold cases that might be connected.”
    The last thing Megan wanted to hear about was the Worth case. That case landed her at the top of her game as an NYC Homicide detective, but it was also the beginning of the unraveling of her life.
    â€œI also called because you received a letter from Mrs. McAllister.” Mrs. McAllister was the mother in Megan and Nappa’s last homicide case. “It looks personal. Do you want me to forward it to you?”
    Megan clicked the remote a few more times and an angry man with slicked back hair waving a Bible stared into the camera. Veins popped out of the side of his temples as he shouted. She was happy she’d had the television on mute.
    â€œYeah, sure.”
    â€œGive me your address.”
    She did and then quickly ended the call. “I have to go, Nappa.”
    After her gluttonous evening was over, Megan found herself unable to sleep. She sat up in bed with her arms wrapped around her knees. She listened to the wind as it came off the lake, blowing through the trees on the property and setting off the sensor lights positioned on each side of the house. Their shadows moved across the bedroom walls. The sound of water having yet to freeze slapped against the lake wall and echoed her inner state. She was attempting to transform her pain into healing, but it felt as though she’d just
begun the 500-mile Camino de Santiago pilgrimage. She wondered if she’d ever see the end in sight. Because right then, she couldn’t.
    A strong gust blew up outside and Megan heard something crash down on the deck. Her detective instinct prompted her to grab her gun from the bedside table. She leapt off the bed and slowly walked to the front of the house, her gun at the ready. Megan didn’t need to turn any lights on; the sensor continued to light up the front deck. She first positioned herself to the right of the room and peered out. Nothing. She moved to the left of the bay window. A large ceramic garden pot filled to the brim with old dirt lay smashed in front of the glass.
    There is no way the wind could knock over something that large, she thought to herself.
    Megan double-checked the locks and windows of Chez Mack, as well as the alarm. All was secure with the exception of her